


in the blurred line between nothing and everything did we feel again.

by lilys_bananas_coven



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Roanoke
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bittersweet, Dark Past, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Medication, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Smoking, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilys_bananas_coven/pseuds/lilys_bananas_coven
Summary: Shelby has done everything to get to where she is; striving for the ordinary.  Audrey has resigned herself to a dark fate, friends with the prospect of achieving nothing and leaving the world that way. Until they find each other.OrThere's lots of wine and words and feelings, unlike the overwhelming numbness Shelby and Audrey's lives seemed destined to be filled with until tonight.
Relationships: Shelby Miller (American Horror Story)/Audrey Tindall
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	in the blurred line between nothing and everything did we feel again.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisMasterpieceIsOnlyMine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisMasterpieceIsOnlyMine/gifts), [Miau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miau/gifts).



> I spent hours on end writing this, I was really into it and super determined to finish it. My summaries are horrible btw I'm so sorry hhhh 
> 
> This one shot is heavy on the dialogue and atmosphere of it all, something I really loved writing. Enjoy! :)

Shelby lives, barely, in a mundane and fixed way. After going through hell(to put it very lightly), she’s struggled to gain any kind of control over her life. Nothing ever goes her way. Nothing ever goes to plan. Not the big things, at least. So, she does the next best thing; gaining control of the little things.

Making her bed in the mornings comes with an almost embarrassing amount of gratification. It feels stupid that something so small means as much to her as it does, she often thinks, while smoothening out her sheets and tucking them in. She does it anyway, as she does everyday, constantly telling herself to appreciate the small amount of control she has. After making her bed, she freshens up in her small bathroom which she also keeps clean in an attempt at control. It’s small; she had the bathtub replaced with a regular shower after one too many waking nightmares in which she had to relive nearly drowning in the outdoor hot tub at the house that shall not be named. Cold water is for the mornings. It’s to wake her up, she tells herself, not to freeze just so she can feel something. Hot water is for the nights, and she steams in the heat until she can barely breathe, soothing all the aches she collected throughout the day. 

On an empty stomach, every morning, she meditates. Gratitude is both easier and harder to practice now. She has so much to be grateful for, if not simply the fact that she’s even alive right now. But is she really grateful for that? It feels like there’s nothing for her. Her life has been the same, dreadfully mundane repetition of meaningless actions. From her showers to her meals, to her subpar sleep, to her drives to the grocery store, maybe it’s all just been a singular day. Maybe it’s all been one, eternity-long day that she’s stuck in until she dies. It’s a different kind of hell, mostly harmless, but excruciating in its own special way. There are days and nights and maybe she is getting old, when her back starts to ache once too often, but it’s all the same. She’s bound to the misery of boredom and nothingness.

If there’s anything Shelby has left, it’s the little control she manages to take pride in.

Audrey Tindall’s name vibrating on her phone screen is already more out of the ordinary than anything Shelby can recall in the last three months. Before this, the only mildly exciting thing to have happened was when a raccoon managed to sneak in through her window. It stole the loaf of bread she had just bought earlier in the day, scampering out before she could even identify what it was. Sighing at the little, albeit adorable thief, she closed her window, not really bothered by her breakfast for the next five days being inconvenienced. 

Audrey is no raccoon. Though, maybe it’s not the worst comparison? Shelby doesn’t particularly like Audrey. She’s not so vocal about her feelings toward the actress, but the same cannot be said about how Audrey, from the very beginning, openly shared her distaste to anyone who would listen. Thinking about it, Shelby wonders why it doesn’t seem to bother her much, and it never has. Somehow, she’d just made up her mind that Audrey was insecure about something and felt the need to prove to everyone that she was better than her. Even if it may not have been the case, Audrey had always felt like more of a pest to her than anything else. A raccoon, maybe. 

“Audrey?”

“Shelby, hey. You haven’t changed your number or anything, then.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“Straight to the point, are we? You don’t seem to have changed much.”

“Audrey,” Shelby says plainly, massaging her temple.

“Look,” Audrey’s sigh crackles through the speaker, “I’m in town for a while. Let’s have tea one of these days.”

Shelby eyes her phone wearily, as if trying to read Audrey’s facial expressions on a blank screen. Why on earth would Audrey willingly see her? It’s been months, but still? She blinks.

“Well?” Audrey’s impatient, as always. 

“Fine. When?” Shelby agrees before she has more time to look into what this could mean for her fragile mental state. 

“Tonight sound alright with you, love? I’ve got a reservation for someplace downtown,” Audrey’s tone seems to shift slightly; it’s lighter, almost. Her accent makes normal words sound posh.

“T-tonight? I… Um…” Is this woman crazy? 

“Yes? Have you got plans already? We can do this some other night, then.”

“N-no. I mean, I- yes. Tonight is fine.” Shelby hates this feeling, she hates that she can’t control herself.

“Lovely. I’ll send you the address. See you.”

Shelby stares at her phone for a long while, not quite sure what she’s gotten herself into. She has a feeling seeing Audrey may resurface things she’s worked tirelessly to bury, like her past(or her husband, but he can’t exactly come back from the dead). The memory of bludgeoning him with a crowbar could, though, and thinking of this makes Shelby sick to her stomach. Feeling faint, she crashes unexpectedly, hours away from having to see the woman who was her face to the world for six months. The strangest warmth blooms throughout her body as she drifts off without warning. 

Audrey has messed everything up, Shelby deduces. She feels almost hungover when she wakes up, hastily reaching for her phone to find that she’d been asleep for nearly three hours. Lunch dishes still sit in the sink, waiting to be washed. She has two unread messages, both from Audrey.

_ 13:27pm  _

_ *pinned location _

_ 13:28pm _

_ Thanks for agreeing to meet, Shelby. See you at 7. _

Shelby decides against replying. She takes a look at the address; it’s ridiculously fancy looking from the image on the site. She could’ve guessed Audrey would be this over the top. Sighing, she finds her way to the shower. A shower in the late afternoon. Everything is wrong. She doesn’t take showers at this time, she thinks, undressing in front of her mirror. Everything is wrong. 

  
  


\----

  
  


Audrey can’t help but feel a flurry of feelings all at once, churning inside her like a warm smoothie. Disgusting. Picking at her manicured nails, she wonders over and over again if this is a mistake; why had she even felt compelled to call that woman? Did some part of her feel obligated to meet her, just because she knows Shelby lives in LA? But she wanted to leave that whole thing behind her. She had planned to forget the hell that was her horrible decision of agreeing to a second season of My fucking Roanoke Nightmare, the very moment she stepped onto her plane back to London. Losing Rory and witnessing more murder and blood than every goddamned horror movie put together was enough. To hell with trying to keep in touch with the only other survivor, right? Yet, here she is, waiting on said survivor with a glass of wine to accompany her. 

She knows she’ll probably never admit it to anyone; the jealousy she had felt from the moment she met Shelby Miller and her husband who was alive at the time. Their love was real, it was raw. It was not in any way fabricated for the cameras, and she knew that. Even playing Shelby on the show with Dominic had messed with her head in some way. In immersing herself in the role of Shelby, she had almost tasted what being so in love with someone might have felt like. Shelby was eight years younger than her. She was beautiful, and she got so lucky. Of course Audrey would feel bitter. It may have festered slightly more than she meant for it to, resulting in her endless taunting and picking on Shelby. How very immature of her. It was only after four therapy sessions back in London that she’d allowed herself to acknowledge this. There was so much envy, so much anger and jealousy and negativity she had felt because of Shelby from the very beginning. She supposes what made it worse was the fact that the woman was seemingly unfazed by it- she never once stood up for herself, unbothered by Audrey and her sharp tongue. The guilt was born from realising that Shelby really didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Excuse me, can I get another glass of this?” she calls a waiter over to her.

The young man nods quickly, fetching the bottle of Pinot Noir to fulfil her request. Audrey looks up at the sound of bells chiming, her stomach knotting immediately. She meets Shelby’s cerulean eyes, heart stopping. Can she see through her?

“Leave the bottle, sweetie,” she waves the man off dismissively, eyes still trained on Shelby’s frame. 

“Hello, darling. Have a seat and we can order,” Audrey smiles, one she had practiced earlier that day. She hopes it doesn’t look like a grimace. 

“Hey, Audrey,” Shelby smiles, timid, “I don’t know what’s good here. I’ll have what you’re having.”

Shelby seems… small. Not literally speaking; her body is as toned and taut as ever, presumably from all the yoga and what not. Her figure exudes strength. But something Audrey can’t quite put her finger on, something invisible to the world around them, makes her seem small. She wonders if Shelby knows she’s just seen this little crack in her soul, or if she’s just over analysing everything. 

It’s silent after Audrey orders them both some signature pasta dish. She busies herself by pouring Shelby a glass of wine, receiving a little nod of approval from the other blonde.

“Thanks,” Shelby mumbles, tilting her glass upward for a sip. She hasn’t had wine in a long time; it’s not advisable with her medication but she figures her day is so messed up already that she can take this little risk.

“So, how are things?” Audrey clears her throat. Shelby notes her very large sips of wine.

“Quiet. How are you?”

Audrey can’t miss the absent tone in Shelby’s voice, or how painfully short her answer is. She doesn’t know if she should push any further than that, but at this rate their conversation is on its way to a premature death. 

“Fine. I’m fine, things are fine. The weather back home is absolute rubbish, LA is a nice change.”

“Oh. Why are you here, again?”

This conversation is painful. Shelby can’t bring herself to brave through the smalltalk, even if she knows how forward she’s being. Seeing Audrey, as she had guessed earlier, is difficult. The woman is stunning, from her done up hair, to her silken shirt, unbuttoned to expose her collarbones and pale neck. But looking in her eyes hurts. Audrey has seen a lot, too. It flickers in golden-brown hues, swirling with darker shades. Audrey shifts in her seat, a reminder for Shelby to stop staring so intensely at her. She tears her gaze away, settling on her wine glass.

“I, um. Well, if I’m being honest, I’ve got a couple of auditions. What better place to pick my career up than where dreams supposedly come true, right?” Audrey chuckles nervously, reaching for the bottle to pour herself a refill. 

Audrey Tindall may be a talented actress, but she quickly proves to be a horrendous liar. Shelby wonders what she’s hiding, hoping to get her intentions out in the open by the end of their meal. Her own downfall, however, is being a horrendous conversationalist. She blames it on the pitiful amount of social interaction her life in recent months has amounted to. 

“You can’t get jobs back home? N-not to sound rude or anything,” Shelby stammers, “It’s just- you came all this way?” 

Audrey laughs for the first time, a somewhat welcome sight, “No darling, I get it. It does seem a tad bit ridiculous, no? Why would I come all the way here when I’m more famous in my own bloody country?”

Before either of them can say more, the waiter from before arrives with their food. At the sight of the creamy looking pasta, Shelby realises she’s starving. They begin eating in silence. Minutes pass, and Audrey chews her food carefully, contemplating what she's about to say next very carefully. She dabs at the corner of her mouth with a serviette, clearing her throat and visibly swallowing. Shelby pauses, looking up at her. Her mouth slows awkwardly, waiting for something to happen. 

"I had to get away from my mother."

While Shelby isn't expecting this, she wonders if she had even been expecting anything. She doesn't know much about Audrey. Nothing about her background, at least. She knows My Roanoke Nightmare and the second season that won't be named did a lot for Audrey's career, which apparently wasn't a good thing. That's about it. Shelby swallows her mouthful. 

"And you're just using auditions as an excuse, or… "

"Oh, God no! I do need these auditions. My career has taken a bit of a steep fall, these past months. I believe I'm killing two birds with one stone," Audrey smiles into her glass. 

Shelby nods, not knowing what to say. Well, she does know what she  _ wants  _ to say, but she's not sure if she should. Wine slides down her throat easily. The tastes compliment each other well. 

"So, um… How'd your mother make you skip town like that? Well, skip countries… I'm sure you would've put up a fight?" Shelby tilts her head, smiling. She's trying. 

"Indeed," Audrey chuckles, and the mood suddenly feeling heaps lighter, "I did kick and scream for a while. Mother refuses to listen to reason, or anything her dearest daughter says to her for that matter." 

Shelby timidly reaches for the Pinot Noir, refilling Audrey's glass before her own. The woman reaches for it immediately like it's a lifeline. She must be on her fourth glass now. Shelby's on her second. 

"Thank you darling," she mutters softly, tilting her glass back for a big sip. As she places it down, she continues,"She couldn't stop talking about everything. All that madness we had to go through. I even bought myself a nice flat away from her and couldn't escape. She'd barge in on most days and prance around like she owned the place. Mother's never been able to get the memo. She'd ask me questions and make me explain it to her because it didn't make sense to her, how it all happened." 

Shelby remains silent, eyes trained on Audrey. The woman clearly has more to say. There's an almost distant look in her eyes, and it feels like looking into a mirror for a brief moment. 

"She can't let go of Rory… or any of the tragedy, for that matter. All the things I want to forget, she reminds me of constantly. Pair that with holding it over my head that I'm in my forties and without a hubby in sight. When I told my therapist and she said mother was having adverse effects on my recovery, I used it as an excuse to just pack up and get away for a bit. Here I am," Audrey smiles, unshed tears in her honey eyes as she reaches for her wine again, like she needs it to function. 

Shelby hadn't been expecting Audrey to be this open with her. It's a change, a welcome change. Perhaps their relationship from this point onwards is about to be less shallow and passive aggressive, and maybe more like a normal friendship. As normal as can be, considering their damaged souls and the past they share. She notes Audrey's glazed over eyes, a twinge in her heart at the sight. Audrey has been through her share of hell, too. It's easy to forget that, being so absorbed in her own head all the time. Audrey is the only other survivor. Shelby reaches for her hand on the table, unsure, but covers it with her own warm palm. Audrey looks down at it, then back up at her blues. 

"I'm sorry, Audrey. Really. I hope being here does something good for you. I didn't know you had that going on," Shelby speaks, softly, cautiously. 

"Thank you, love. No one knows about my chaotic mother. There's no one to tell, anyway," she mutters, gaze falling back on their touching hands.

The darkness to her words can't be missed; the blaring implication that there's no one to tell because everyone's dead. It's true. Everyone is dead. Everyone who mattered in some way to them is dead. Except, perhaps, each other. But do they matter to each other?

"Shelby, this is the wine talking for me, but… could we maybe, keep in touch? From now on?" Audrey sounds hesitant, but her liquid courage manages to push the words out of her. 

Shelby's eyes widen slightly at this request. She runs her mind over the words, trying to find more meaning in it. Their meal, as it turns out, has been surprisingly pleasant. Not once had Audrey insulted or attempted to offend her. They're getting along. What brought this change about? It's truly confusing. Audrey seems to understand her apprehension. 

"You must be thinking I'm off my rockers, love. It's just… I've realised now, after spending this time with you, what's been wrong this whole time. Ever since I got on that plane back to London, I've tried everything to forget Roanoke. But I didn't, I couldn't. I can't. I know you can't either. Everyone treats me differently now, you know? They either walk on eggshells around me, or cross all my boundaries and try to tear me open for answers. I couldn't get that in between anymore, I couldn't have a single normal conversation with anyone until now. And that's because of you." 

And Shelby immediately understands. Though their lives are scarcely opposite, they're more similar than ever. Because at the end of the day, they're the only two who understand each other, who understand what they had to go through. Survivors, plagued with being haunted by the past until the days they drop dead. She understands, because Audrey understands her, too. And this feeling, this one assurance that someone actually understands her, is something Shelby doesn't want to trade for the world. She's gone too long without having a single soul who can see her for who she is. 

"It's because I know. I know what you've been through," Shelby says, voice almost down to a whisper as her eyes sting with the urge to bawl. She squeezes on Audrey's hand. 

"Yes," Audrey breathes, almost in awe of Shelby in this very moment. She can't describe the feeling, the euphoric feeling of being truly understood.

"How long are you in town for?" 

"A month, for now. Mother insisted on me buying a return ticket, but I plan to extend my stay." 

"How much longer?" There's a pleading spark in Shelby's azure orbs that Audrey feels compelled to please. 

"As long as I want."  _ As long as you want.  _

The urge to be rude, offensive, or insensitive towards Shelby dissipated from the very moment she walked into the restaurant. Audrey is terrified. She reckons it's self growth; maybe therapy with that ominous shrink back in London helped more than she had cared to realise. Maybe facing the skeletons of envy and bitterness in her closet(hopefully walk-in, she deserves it) towards Shelby has finally allowed her to let her guard down around the woman. Not once did she feel the urge to get defensive about anything, despite Shelby's straightforward questions and her apparent intolerance for small talk. So yes. She's terrified. Because change is scary, and it always happens at unexpected moments, and Audrey feels like she's had enough of it in her lifetime. She only hopes this brings about something better, something that won't leave her picking up her own pieces again. 

"Let's keep in touch. I can help you get settled around here, and… and I could use a friend." 

_ A friend. They're friends now.  _

And Audrey smiles. A real, bright smile. Warmth floods her body at the sound of Shelby's comforting words. A friend. 

"I could use a friend too, love. Thank you. Are we done here?" she asks, looking around at the now deserted restaurant. They've spent quite a while here, it seems. 

Shelby finishes the last of her wine and Audrey polishes what's left in the bottle. She seems to hold her alcohol well, just about sober after that many glasses. Shelby knows tolerance is developed over time. It makes her wonder how much Audrey has drunk in her lifetime to reach a point like this as she reaches into her bag for her purse. 

"Don't be silly darling, I've paid already. Come on now," Audrey stands a little too quickly, steadying herself with a hand on the table. She's definitely a little woozy, on second thought. 

Before Shelby can make any attempt at protesting, Audrey shoots her a light hearted glare, but she's serious. She points a warning finger at the taller blonde. 

"No buts. If you want to pay me back, you'd be a darling and help me walk straight," she huffs, smiling. 

Shelby sighs, knowing there's no point in arguing. She timidly moves towards the older woman, allowing her to latch onto her arm. Audrey's eyes widen and she looks away. She hadn't been expecting Shelby to be so…. Shredded? As the Americans said? The woman's arm is firm as hardwood, and she holds on tightly to prevent herself from tripping on her own two feet as they head to the exit, thanking the waiter. Audrey absently tips him a hundred dollar note, leaving both him and Shelby with wide eyes. 

"Oh come on, love. Just take it, have yourself a little spa day or something," Audrey calls to the young man, not looking back as they leave the restaurant. 

A chilly breeze envelopes their bodies, but Audrey is all warm from her copious amounts of wine, and Shelby's cheeks are flushed from the woman practically hanging off of her side. 

"Are you staying at a hotel nearby?" Shelby asks, looking up and down the vibrant streets, littered with people and lights and luxury.

"Yes, but if you don't mind, darling, could we go back to yours for the night? I'm uncomfortable in my room and they'll only change it tomorrow," Audrey confesses, the slightest slur to her voice. She bites her lip, worried for Shelby's response. 

"I… um, sure. Yeah. It's not very big," Shelby can't believe her own words, already guiding Audrey along to her car. 

"Oh, nonsense. I don't mind anywhere so long as your neighbors don't shag obnoxiously loudly through the night like mine do," the tipsy blonde's accent is stronger now, and Shelby smiles to herself at her still perfectly constructed sentences. 

"Nope, no… shagging. Watch your step," Shelby mutters, helping the older woman into her car. 

The wine really starts to kick in now. Audrey is clearly inebriated now, after more than half of their shared bottle. Her head lolls back against the headrest, cheeks puffed as she tries to calm herself. Her exhales smell like the sweet alcohol, hitting Shelby's face. Shelby thinks twice, giving in to lean over and fasten her seatbelt. At the close contact, Audrey makes an incomprehensible sound, and grips tightly onto her arm. Shelby's eyes widen. She looks at Audrey, puzzled. 

"I-is something wrong?" 

"No… no, darling it's just- my head's spinning," Audrey laughs airily, eyes hooded. In the dim lighting, her irises are far darker, dilated. It's unnerving, in a way. 

"Yes, Audrey. You're drunk," Shelby chuckles nervously, carefully removing herself from the woman's personal space. 

This isn't a good idea. It can't possibly be a good idea, Shelby decides, igniting the engine. Beside her, Audrey blinks inconsistently and turns her head in every direction. She giggles when a song begins to play on the radio. 

"You Americans and your trashy radio pop. The only good pop in this world is fizzy pop!" Audrey exclaims, punctuating herself with more laughter. 

Shelby tilts her head, smoothly pulling onto the main road from her parking space. A smile finds itself on her face, because Audrey isn't making much sense and it's admittedly entertaining. She's never known Audrey well enough to see her out of character; the woman seems to take pride in being all posh and put together, and she's quite the opposite now. 

"What's fizzy pop? Are you talking about soda?" Shelby smiles, eyes trained on the road. 

"Soda," Audrey scoffs, "how on earth did you lot come up with that? It should be fizzy pop everywhere!" 

Shelby laughs, for the first time tonight. It's all so ridiculous, from the call this afternoon, to having an actual pleasant dinner, to suddenly driving home with the most unexpected person Shelby could possibly have a good time with. To top it all off, she's drunk and saying dumb things, letting her guard down. The day is so far out of the ordinary that Shelby doesn't know whether to panic, or give up and let it happen. She's obviously doing one over the other already, but doesn't really want to admit that yet. 

By the time Shelby pulls into the driveway, it's quietened down considerably. The drive had been about twenty minutes, enough for Audrey to sober up considerably. She hadn't said a word for the entire ride, both of them basking in nothing but the soft tunes playing on the radio. Shelby turns to glance at Audrey, finding the woman already staring at her. 

"Thank you for this, darling. I've managed to collect myself but I'm not quite sober yet, sorry," she apologises, running pretty hands through her hair to tame it. 

"It's okay. I'm sure I can find something for you when you wake up with a hangover," Shelby offers Audrey what can only be described as a genuinely kind smile. The warmth from before returns, spreading through Audrey like alcohol in her system. 

"Ugh, I shouldn't have had so much to drink," Audrey sighs, rubbing her temples, "I do it all the time, though." 

"Do you drink often?" There's a small shift in the mood at the question, and it doesn't go unnoticed by either of them. 

Audrey stares into Shelby's eyes for a long moment, holding her gaze in an almost challenging way. Then, she sighs. Her fingers fiddle with themselves, a nervous habit she hates about herself. 

"It's… well, it's a lot easier to get through the day when you're not completely sober. I suppose we all have our vices. Mine's not quite the most advisable." 

"Audrey… " Shelby's hesitant, in fear of ostracizing the latter. 

"I know, love. I've got to get it under control. I'm quite frankly one more bottle from being a bloody alcoholic by now," Audrey laughs humorlessly. 

Shelby is silent after that. They sit, pulled up in the driveway, for what feels like an hour. It's probably only ten minutes. The heaviness in the air is palpable, but the only reason it's bearable is because there doesn't seem to be anything between them. They're both shrouded with the feeling, but at least they're not upset with each other. 

"Let's head inside?" Shelby finally asks, slicing through the silence with a practiced calmness. 

"Oh, of course. Yeah."

Audrey allows herself a moment to really take in the sight of Shelby while the latter is busy fumbling with her keys. She also notes the abundance of locks on the door. It's abnormal but completely understandable, frankly. 

Most things about Shelby seem very put together. Strangely, it's as if she's  _ too  _ put together, in the way where you'd assume she's hiding something. Audrey figures she is, well, hiding all her trauma under her calm appearance. Her calves are muscular, long legs toned with lines to prove her fitness. The blue sundress thrown over her body fits perfectly. It doesn't look like a new article of clothing, almost exuding some kind of history of its wearer as its colour compliments the paleness of Shelby's complexion. She looks like porcelain. Her naturally blonde hair is full of volume, styled to cascade down her shoulders in waves. In Audrey's slightly drunken state, it reminds her of a rye field in the sunset, under the yellow porch light. Her hands are worn, long fingers wrapped around different keys. The lines on her palms aren't clear from a distance, but they run deep into her skin, like the rings in a tree trunk. Stories from the past. Faint scars reside in her flesh, pale pink in colour. Audrey wonders how she got each and every one. 

"Come on in," Shelby calls softly in front of her, not looking back.

Audrey lifts herself off the pillar she's leaning on, dragging her heavy body into the house after Shelby. 

Shelby's tired sigh sounds throughout what looks like a little living room connected to the kitchen. As the lights get switched on, she twirls around to meet Audrey's gaze, a lazy smile on her pink lips. 

"Welcome. The guest room scares the lights out of me so I never go in at night, but you can make yourself comfortable there if you want. If you want to use my room, you can. I'll take the couch," she speaks with a strange lightness to her tone, plopping down on said couch. Maybe it's exhaustion. 

"Nonsense, love. I can't kick you out of your own room," Audrey says incredulously, "but if you're scared of your guest room I'll be safe and say I am too. I'll crash on your couch, if you don't mind." 

Audrey decides not to ask why Shelby is scared of a room in her house. 

"Whatever you want. Water?" 

  
  


\---- 

  
  


Standing in front of Shelby's mirror feels strange. Once in a while, when Audrey looks at herself in a mirror, she sees Shelby. It's said that actors often suffer from separation anxiety with past roles, especially when method acting. Shelby Miller hadn't just been a normal role to her. Not with what happened in that house. For six months, she'd done everything to become Shelby. Talking with an American accent off set, picking up on the small mannerisms she could from their brief meetings, even trying to convince herself of the love Shelby felt for Matt in her own heart. For a while, Shelby's pain felt like her own. She had performed so bloody well that she'd convinced herself, after it was all over, that she'd really gone through it all. Of course, back then, she still didn't believe it was real. To return to that godforsaken place a second time and be rudely stabbed with the truth was a very messy thing for Audrey. She found herself slipping in and out of Shelby's headspace that she had created. Her therapist had helped her erase this, at least. But no, not completely. 

Audrey blinks, and Shelby is gone from her reflection. There's a soft knock on the bathroom door. 

"Are you okay in there?" Shelby calls, hesitant. She's been in here for too long. 

"Um, yes- yes I'm fine, dear. You can come in, it's open," Audrey wipes away at the unexpected tear on her cheek just as Shelby lets herself in with caution. 

All of a sudden, Shelby has no idea why she's in her bathroom with Audrey. The older woman is now dressed in an old hoodie of hers, long enough to cover the pair of shorts underneath. Her brown eyes are teary, meeting her gaze in a sheepish manner. 

"Are you okay?" Shelby asks again, because Audrey just looks upset. 

"I- yes, darling. Nothing to worry about. I'll get out of your hair," she says, moving to leave the small bathroom. 

It happens in a blur, really. Maybe it's her arm that brushes against it, or something along those lines. But a silent second turns into the clattering of a familiar little plastic bottle, orange in colour, as it falls to the floor. It's contents rattle, and it's loud. It's so, so loud. Too loud for Shelby to bear. Tears spring to her eyes without warning, and a sob rips through her throat. She tries to cover her ears with her hands, but they're trembling, and her whole body is trembling, and maybe she's falling, and-

"Hey, shh. It's okay, love. Shelby, look at me," Audrey whispers, cupping the latter's face to allow their eyes to meet. 

"Shelby. Listen to my voice. You're alright, darling," she continues, wiping at hot tears on her porcelain face.

They stay like this until Shelby can manage a few steady breaths. She's backed lightly against the wall, and Audrey remains in front of her, cradling her face in her hands. They stare at each other. There is no judgement in Audrey's gaze. No confusion, or distaste. She looks like she understands, like she's lived through this exact moment for a million lifetimes. Shelby can breathe again, and it's because of Audrey. 

"Are you alright now, darling?" Audrey finally asks, backing up slightly to allow the taller blonde some space. 

Shelby nods. She can't say she's really okay, but she's been relieved of her panic. To her, it's enough of a blessing at that. She can't bring herself to move from the position she's in, oddly comfortable where she is. Safe. Audrey's accent is a welcome familiarity. She's realised this now, after hearing it all night. It's just something she knows. It's just… that British accent that belongs to Audrey Tindall. 

"Lovely. I'll give you your restroom back now," Audrey offers the smallest of smiles to the latter, an attempt to comfort her. 

On her way out, Audrey picks the bottle up. Shelby only watches. The woman puts it back in its precarious place on the sink, silent. She glances at Shelby a last time, and leaves. It's her nonchalance to the whole thing that allows Shelby to breathe. Her demons of shame are at bay, at Audrey's mercy without the woman even realising it. Shelby cries in the comfort of her bathroom for a few minutes before she freshens up like she had planned to. She decides not to take her pills tonight. The way they numb her is violent. But something tells her she'll want to feel tonight as much as she possibly can. She turns the lights off and closes the door on the white-capped bottle, abandoning it for a night. Its cries for her are muffled until she can no longer hear them. It's liberating. 

Audrey is seconds from lighting the cigarette between her lips when Shelby enters the living room, a blanket and pillow under her arm. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, you don't mind do you?" she asks with a lisp, holding it between her teeth. 

Shelby shakes her head, "Go ahead." She won't tell Audrey that cigarette smoke gives her a headache. 

"Cheers, love." 

Shelby sits down on the sofa, placing the pillow and blanket beside her. Audrey nods at her to acknowledge the act of kindness, parting her lips. She doesn't quite blow the smoke out, so it leaves her lips in thick, milky looking clouds. Something about the sight is strangely attractive, Shelby decides. It's hard to look away. She allows herself a moment to stare when Audrey puts it between her lips, closing around it and inhaling. This time, she tilts her head back, blowing the smoke out with a heavy exhale. It swims around under the lights, making the room look hazy. The scent is not as unpleasant as Shelby remembers it being. Her eyes widen when Audrey holds the burning thing out, offering it to her. 

"I, um… I've never tried," she blushes. 

"I had always pegged you as a prude," Audrey laughs, "well? Now's your chance." 

Fuck it? Fuck it. 

Shelby hesitantly plucks the burning cigarette from Audrey's slender fingers, bringing it up to her lips. She shifts under the woman's gaze. 

"Just breathe it in, hold it for a bit, then let go." 

Seconds later, Shelby's choking and hacking violently while Audrey saves the cigarette from her, laughing until there are tears in her eyes. 

"I should've known it wouldn't be so easy," Shelby groans, throat sore. 

"It takes practice, love," Audrey giggles, bringing it between her lips again. She does it like she's putting a show on for Shelby, like she knows how attractive she looks. 

"You must do it a lot, then," Shelby mumbles, watching with undivided attention. 

"Another vice I'm not so proud of. It takes the edge off for a while. Or rather, just softens it. Everything gets a tad hazy after four or five of these," she sighs, shifting around to get comfortable on the sofa. 

"That many?" 

"I used to feel a high after just one. That was a bloody long time ago." 

"You're killing yourself," Shelby whispers, but she can't tear her eyes away from it. 

"I know, love. I'll deal with that when I get there." 

Maybe to a normal person, Audrey's indifference to death would be concerning. But Shelby is no normal person. She's just like Audrey. Death is but an inevitable thing, and it's no longer feared. It just is. Death will take every life at some point. Shelby can't deny the times she's wished it would come just a little quicker, a little easier. 

They don't speak. Audrey finishes her cigarette, and lights another. She mumbles a short apology for leaving ashes on the coffee table- at least she doesn't dust them all over the sofa. Shelby tries it again, this time getting the hang of it. Everything feels fuzzy after three more hits. Her living room is slowly becoming a hot box. 

"I didn't take them." 

"Sorry?" Audrey looks at Shelby, tilting her head in question. 

"The meds. I didn't take them today." 

"Did you have a good day?" 

Shelby ponders on the question for a moment. What is a good day supposed to be like? She's not so sure anymore, after living the same day for almost a year. 

"Maybe?" 

"I stopped taking my medication four months ago," Audrey confesses absently. 

"You were on meds?"

"Of course, darling. My shrink prescribed them to combat the anxiety and paranoia. And the nightmares. Everytime I took them, I was so strung that I couldn't function normally. They just… numbed everything. I couldn't feel a bloody thing. I couldn't cry, but I couldn't smile anymore either. I got so terrified that I'd never be able to feel anything again so I just stopped one day. Tossed it in the rubbish and lied to my shrink about it." 

The feeling of being understood is unlike any other. Shelby tears up. 

"What happened after that?" she asks, soft. 

"Well," Audrey sighs, finishing the last of her cigarette, "I suffered. A lot." 

Audrey notes Shelby's interest in this story. She knows something is resonating with her, and she wants to connect. She wants to connect with Shelby. She needs to. 

"The nightmares came back. I couldn't get a wink of sleep after a while because I was so bloody scared to try. I'd go days without closing my eyes until I could just faint from exhaustion. I was hospitalised one too many times and my therapist was concerned, so I had to try sleeping. That's when I found that a good glass of scotch, neat, worked like sleeping pills. And any kind of alcohol just started getting me through the day. I didn't want to rely so much on one thing, so I started smoking like a teenager again, trying to switch the booze out for something else." 

Audrey chuckles, shaking her head. Shelby doesn't say anything. 

"I'm a fucking idiot, Shelby. I just got myself hooked on both of them, in the end. I can still function sober, but just barely. I'm a bloody mess," she shakes her head again. 

"It's not too late to get it under control," Shelby's voice is sweet like honey. 

For someone who has been through as much as she has, Shelby seems to still have a sliver of optimism to offer Audrey. It's admirable, precious. 

"I'm destined to be fucked up like this, love," Audrey speaks. 

"I can help you. While you're here," Shelby says, faint hints of desperation laced in her words; she wishes for something to go right, anything.

Perhaps Shelby had missed the finality in Audrey's words. She's not so hopeful; resigned to succumbing to addiction and slowly dying a meaningless death. She knows, deep down, that any success in her career will barely satisfy her at this point. Still, she's going through with it, just playing with the severed strings of what had been a true passion only less than a year ago. It's all temporary. She doesn't know what she's living for, or if she's really even living. She's breathing, she supposes. Just barely. 

But Shelby's eyes are this spectacular, unreal shade of blue, like the crystal waters in Greece. The unshed tears in them shimmer like little, sacred pools of pure feeling. How does she look so beautiful in tears? There's a vulnerability to her hope, and she's so fragile, holding what's left of her heart on her sleeve for Audrey. It's all she has, and she still wants to try. She's risking everything by being this hopeful, and they both know it. Perhaps the scars on her palms are from how she clawed desperately at all her shattered pieces, putting herself back together with all the little shards. Stitches without anaesthetics. Audrey realises how they're different from each other now. And maybe, she'll try, if only for Shelby. 

"You created the worst of your pain," she whispers, shifting closer to the latter. 

Shelby frowns, brows furrowing. A pang of hurt echoes through her chest. 

"Wh-what? Why- how could you say that?" 

"Putting yourself back together… that hurt more than what you actually went through. Didn't it?" 

The tears in her eyes finally fall, streaming down her cheeks. They burn streaks into her skin. It's true. It's true, and it hurts so badly that Shelby's body can't take it. She cries from her soul. 

Audrey wraps her arms around Shelby, buffering her violent sobs with her strong hold. She cries, too. Because Shelby's done every last thing she possibly could to be here today. With a home, and a healthy body, and a steady lifestyle. She's done everything to be normal, to live like her past means nothing to her. She's succeeded, but at a cost too large to bear. She has everything again, just like she had always wanted. But she has nothing. Nothing at all. She's done so well, only to have absolutely nothing and no one to have done it for. 

"Shelby, I'm here now. I see you, my love. I see everything you've done. You fixed yourself up as well as you could, and look at how well you've done, darling," Audrey whispers, voice shaky with more feeling than she's used to. 

Shelby sobs harder at the words she's died inside, yearning to hear for far too long. She clings onto Audrey like her life depends on it. Tonight, it does. Truly. 

"You don't have to be alone anymore, love," Audrey cries, shifting until their foreheads are touching. 

Shelby's lips tremble, tears wetting them and seeping into her mouth at the corners. Her piercing blues gaze longingly into Audrey's warm, honey hued irises. 

"You don't have to be alone anymore. You- you're  _ not  _ going to be alone anymore," Audrey breathes, desperation dripping from her lips. 

Their lips meet like it's the only possible thing that could've happened. Pouring every last feeling into it, their souls are stripped completely bare. It's raw, and painful, and tender. It's everything. To truly feel again hadn't been something neither of them thought they'd get to experience anymore, and it's evident in the way they cling onto each other, like letting go will send them spiralling right down into the abyss. Shelby is all Audrey has. Audrey is all Shelby has. It hurts so much, but it's all they need. The pleasure explodes in every nerve ending and cell. The questions have answers, and the frightening, gaping holes in their hearts are filled. It's almost otherworldly. 

If every single thing that had happened in their hellish pasts was destined to lead them here… then maybe, just  _ maybe,  _ it was all worth it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked it! :'>
> 
> P. S. Not quite sure how gifting people on ao3 works cuz I'm new to it, but if the two people I tried to gift this to recieved it, then a special thank you to you for cheering me on! It means a lot to me so this was for you both <3


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